


all that i need

by Lizzen



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Of course I came back, she said,I’ll never leave you again.But he didn’t make the same promise.Or, What happens when you love a beast and he becomes a man





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to k, m2, & v for the thumbs up; and as always, thanks to a <333

The house doesn’t sleep that night. 

There are stories and kisses to share, hands to shake and hands to hold. Fingertips must touch every inch of human skin once lost. Bellies are filled with food again, with wine and tea, of course, and desserts and ices. Music plays, and the halls echo with laughter and the gasps of air in new lungs. 

Early in the morning, Belle sits with his head in her lap, and listens to tales told over again and watches the happy faces of the unenchanted and those they love. Her fingers are deeply tangled in his hair and for a moment, she forgets and her happiness is incandescent. 

He laughs, a rich and warm sound, and when she looks down at his pale face, her fond smile falters.

*  
There had been moments, brief but memorable, when Belle, the hostage, snuck fingers down under the sheets and found relief in the wet heat between her legs. She was, at that auspicious time, unable to stop a low guttural sound that bubbled out from deep within her, up her throat, and roaring out her mouth. 

And her cheeks burned after.

*  
She doesn’t waste any time because propriety is for provincial types and she has to know-- she has to know if--

His eyes widen as she leads him with sweet kisses to his bed, pulling him down with her and winding her legs around his human ones. The bed has a musky smell, despite how much it has been cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. She fills her nose with it and reaches for his belt. 

His ask: “You’re sure?”  
Her response: “Yes, oh yes.”

He cups her face in his hands, gentle, gentle, and his eyes are searching. She has no interest in conversation, in talking about this before-- and so she kisses him, quick at first and then something that lingers. 

Kissing him, she loves; his hands holding her tight, she loves; hearing the rumble of his sighs, she loves. 

Him, she--

*  
_Of course I came back_ , she said, _I’ll never leave you again._

But he didn’t make the same promise. 

*  
As they idle in bed, in the untidy sheets of their intimacy, she ponders over many things. It’s strange, she thinks, to miss him while he’s in her arms; warm and alive and hers. It’s strange, she thinks, to want--

*  
He reads her poetry in the library, and she closes her eyes. His voice isn’t quite-- there’s shades of the familiar, and it’s almost enough. Enough to--

Something tightly winds in her belly; something like desire. With each verse, the sensation builds, becomes overwhelming. She finds herself breathing faster, finds herself longing for--

She pulls him into a corner and lifts her skirts while pressing her mouth to his neck, sucking on the skin there. He groans out weakly, and unbuckles. Her head hits the books when he slides in, harder than he intended. Belle juts her hips roughly against his in response, hoping for-- but he slows, fucks in deeply but gently, a hand cradling her neck as he does. 

Something inside her just aches with want for something, _something_ else. 

Then: he spills into her and lets out a feral grunt, an echo of a sound she knows, and then she’s close, so close that it takes a quick fumble to get her coming against fingers and his softening dick. 

But when he gasps out a laugh, it’s so human that she almost panics.

Instead, instead, she stares into his eyes, those familiar eyes of her dearest one, and feels at home again. 

*  
Later, he squeezes her hand too tight and her heart races. 

*  
_Something is changing in me_ , she had thought before, and she had wondered how to understand it, tolerate it, face it. 

And then he had a human face, human hands, and human lips to--

*  
He sighs something very pretty when she grips him with a purpose. “Belle,” he growls, but there’s amusement in his eye and he grows thicker in her hand. 

“Do you miss it?” she says, “The way it used to be?” and her grip tightens just slightly. 

There’s a chuckle first followed by a tightening in his jaw. “You wouldn’t have liked it. I was--,” he pauses, “Larger.”

She tugs at him, almost petulantly. “I don’t know, it could have been--” and he kisses the words away. 

*  
Her celebration dress flutters this way and that as they move together across the floor. There’s this thud in her chest as they dance, feeling the skin of his hand in hers and feeling the length of his human form in the few moments they press against each other. While his grip is similar, she doesn’t have to reach so far to put her hand on his shoulder.

She pictures the hall empty, pictures him as he was, and she trembles.

On impulse: “How would you feel about growing a beard?”

There’s a complex kind of joy in his face as he responds with a sort of roar, sotte voce, and something like hope rises in her heart. 

*  
After all, she thinks, it was a beast that fell in love with her. 

*  
She pays attention, close attention, that night as he treats her like some fragile princess who could break into a thousand shards. He’s a kind lover, thorough in bringing her pleasure before taking his own. 

But she notices how his muscles tense, and his hands grip the sheets tight, and sometimes his eyes flash black with a desire he doesn’t express. 

It’s enough to make her come rather emphatically against careful ministrations, as she imagines.

*  
Voices whisper of the prince-that-was, his tastes and his interests. His many women. 

She’s certain he never tenderly made love to them.

*  
It’s easy to sneak away to the little rose-covered courtyard where he once offered that they should run away. It’s easy to slide onto his lap and roll her hips against his before meeting his lips, his open mouth. It’s easy to kiss him, kiss him, and kiss him until all a quiver in her arms. 

It’s lovely, it really is. 

What’s lovelier: he gasps out, and then he says, “Everything I have is yours. Everything I am is yours. Ask me for the world and it’s yours.”

And her lips curve against his skin. 

*  
Belle opens her mouth and speaks her request and his eye widen and he grips her wrist too tight. 

“I could lose myself,” He’s terrified, frozen in her arms. “Losing control, I’m--”

“I’m not afraid.” And her heart races despite it all.

“If I hurt you--”

“You won’t.”

He barks out a sad sort of laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

*  
\--And _don’t hold back_ , she had said--

*  
It begins with him breathing calmly, his eyes closed, and his mouth shut. She watches him curiously, considering if he’s losing his nerve. But then--

His eyes open and she could swear they were almost red-colored. 

*  
\-- _I want you to take me_ , she had said--

*  
His hold on her is still within the realm of gentleness, but there’s no doubt that she’s his, that she’s in his grip and won’t be let go for quite some time. She pants a little, and relaxes into it. 

He is unrelenting at opening her up, readying her. First, fingers (one, two, and then three), and then his very skilled tongue. She’s a mewling mess when he finishes, his chin wet with her, and she tries to catch her breath, before-- before--

But he surprises her, takes time to lap at her budding nipples until they’re hard and aching. She comes, bemused and lost in sensation mixed with the anticipation. And that’s when he bites, a shock that makes her gasp and then ask him to do it again. He sucks hard at her skin instead, leaving purpling bruises and she writhes in response. 

Coming up for air, he gazes at her and they breathe raggedly together. There’s something wild about him, slightly unhinged. “Come on,” she urges him, and her hand finds its way to his dick, hard with want, and she squeezes. “I’m yours,” she whispers and he shivers all over. 

*  
\-- _like a beast_ , she had said--

*  
He slides in deep and hard, an immediate sort of thrust that knocks the wind out of her. She’s on her hands and knees, and his hands are gripping her hips tight so he can push in further. And then he lingers and her sex flexes a little around him, the reverberations of previous pleasure and the prospect of more. He grunts out once and then he _moves_.

Flights of fancy never prepared her for this, this, the unbroken rhythm as he drives into her, and at a ravaging speed and force. She meets him each time, pushing back as he pushes in, and her mouth is full of sounds; some of them words to encourage him, some of them gasps, and some of them unintelligible. Her eyes are full of tears, just from the overstimulation of it all. When he speeds up, just a little, just enough, she falls to her elbows and arches her back, and they both growl out as one. Her cheek leans heavily against the sheets, and she wills this, all of it, to last; to feel this used, this loved. 

When his hand moves to tweak her nipple, she’s lost in a blaze, sharp and thorough fireworks, and the walls of her heat throb mercilessly against him. All she can see is white, and all she can feel is-- is--

She’s almost through her orgasm when he comes crashing down on her with a roar in his mouth and his dick pulsating inside her. It’s a ravishment beyond imagining, and a glorious shiver starts in her toes and rises through her bloodstream and into her rapidly beating heart. 

When he’s done, when it’s over, something like a sob rumbles out of him and she adjusts, pulling him into her arms and tangling her fingers in his hair. 

“Dearest,” she says, until he’s still. 

When he opens his eyes, he looks-- he looks-- “It was too much,” he says, “I’m not-- I’m so--” and she kisses the words away.

*  
The next day, she lazes in bed, too sore to do much of anything. Definitely unable to ride horseback for awhile. He brings her tea and treats from the kitchen, and he kisses her nose and fingers and lips, and then lingers for kisses that go on forever. 

His ask: “Are you happy?”  
Her response: “Yes, oh yes.”

And she smiles, and she smiles, and she loves him, loves _him_.


End file.
